Blackout
by arizonasunset79
Summary: They didn't realize it until now: Frank and Nancy will have to do this on their own. Joe is lost. How will they manage? But they will have to, for all their sakes.
1. Nightmares

March 18 7:00 pm

"Joe!"

Frank's loud whisper broke through the silence of the night. He shifted from his uncomfortable kneeling position to a more steady one, so that he could get up quickly and get into action when the time called for it. Seventeen year old Joe, his brother, looked up quizzically as he made a 'keep quiet' motion with his hand. "Now's not exactly the time to chat, Frank. Thought brainiac you would've figured that out long ago." Turning away, he focused back his attention to the area just fifteen meters away from him, the place where their subject was last seen around. With a trained eye, Joe looked carefully for any sign of movement among the darkness of the trees, whose shadows seemed to be hiding anything that might be of interest to him. The last remnants of evening light struggled to filter through the thick canopy of overhanging branches, a pathetic effort to light up the scene before him, of there was anything at all to be taken more of.

Unlike his brother, Frank was not as concentrated on what he was supposed to be concentrated on-the stakeout. His thoughts wandered further and further away as he now and then gazed at the shadow cast by his brother on the shelter near his tree, his chosen hideout. He whispered his name again, to check that he was still there, but there was no reply. Frank blinked again. The shadow didn't look so much as one cast by a figure anymore. It seemed to have morphed into something else less human like. Now it blended in with the rest of them, dark, ominous shadows, branching out of corners where you least expected them, taking hold of you by your fears. Frank felt a little fearful at that moment, under the rapidly decreasing light. He grabbed hold of the rough tree trunk to stabilize himself. He scolded himself.

"Snap out of it, Hardy."

Deep down inside, he knew that it was actually not a fear that he could just shake himself out of. It was no ordinary fear. It was not just like the fear of a child when he refused to go to bed alone because of the dark. Neither was it the same kind of fear that those with arachnophobia felt when they sighted those eight-legged terrors. The child could sleep with Mommy, and the dark, scary monsters would melt away into the night, leaving him in peace. Spiders could be killed, squashing all remaining fear caused by the beast. In fact, a black widow compared to this situation was nothing. Frank knew that he was worried about something deeper than the fading light. It concerned the safety of his brother.

He called out once again. Even though there was no reply, he could almost see Joe roll his eyes before him, saying half-seriously, "Frank, you should know by now that I can take care of myself." Worry squirmed up his mind, but he squashed it by comforting himself that Joe was probably just a few trees away from him, safe and unharmed.

The Hardy brothers shared a relationship that was much more special than most other siblings. Sure, they fought sometimes (occasionally ending up than more than just a few bruises), but there was hardly anything that could get in the way of the pair - or nothing that they couldn't do. Their bond was unbreakable. Joe often described themselves as 'the closest two platonic people could ever get'. Frank agreed quietly. There were also many people who had seen them work and accomplish, who called Frank as the 'brain' and Joe the 'braun'. This was not entirely true. Frank had to admit that there were times when Joe thought up of smart and workable ideas during cases, which had actually turned out successful. There were also times when Frank noticed that Joe seemed a little left out. He wouldn't have noticed it if not for his mother had told him about it. Sometimes people forgot that Joe was part of the team, and whether he was actually wanted. He had a humorous, wild and rash side that caused them to believe that he didn't take things seriously enough, like he was just clowning around. But his brother knew him Joe well enough to know that under that careless, happy-go-lucky persona was a very sensible and thoughtful teenager indeed, who did care very much about helping others. Frank Hardy wouldn't trade anything for their relationship.

But this was what would push it to the limit. Several nights back, he had been having nightmares that all revolved around Joe. Joe getting shot, Joe getting stabbed, Joe getting kidnapped, he dreamt it all. But the worst thing was that in all of them, Frank was always so close to his brother, but never able to save him. He was always split seconds away from pulling him to safety. Screams would escape his lips when he watched helplessly as the killer got Joe time and time again. It was all too real. Guilt would flood in, and anger, and desperation..

* * *

March 17 late at night

"Need help Joe?" Frank yelled as he gave a final punch to his burly opponent in the stomach. Wheezing and dazed, he collapsed head first before Frank's feet. He started to run across the pavement to his brother's aid.

"Oof! Um, fine here, 'guess! Ugh!" Joe muttered hastily, ducking as his assailant through several punches to his midriff. He was doing pretty well, his opponent was losing strength quickly and almost defeated. That was when the unthinkable happened.

In that minute moment of time - Frank was a mere meter away from Joe - Joe was giving his attacker his last few blows; fate chose this moment to step in and play the upper hand. Seconds ago nobody noticed the man dressed in a black coat and gloves who stepped up behind Joe, gun in hand. Seconds later only did everybody notice his presence - seconds too late. Out of shock, Frank stopped in his tracks, motionless as he stared at the man, unable to move, unable to speak. He only saw all too clear the man raise his hand in one swift upward motion - as if he had practiced doing this many times - and put the gun in line with the back of still oblivious Joe's mussed blond head. Two things happened at once.

*BANG*

"_NOOO_!"

Frank reacted split seconds too late and only managed to shout something at the same time the gun was fired in an attempt to warn his brother. The explosion was one of the loudest he'd heard. Of course, he had his share of being too near when bombs exploded, standing way too close when a plane zoomed overhead, or even being caught in severe thunderstorms where lightning struck ground that was too close for comfort. But this was different. Worse. His scream was a noise that he didn't even know he was capable of producing and coupled with the gunshot that sounded just next to him, he felt like the world beneath his feet had just blown up and he was tumbling down into a pit of nothingness.

His mind played tricks on him. He didn't even know what was happening, and at the same time realized that his brother's life had just been cruelly terminated. His vision blurred as he stumbled in what his senses told him was the right direction. The gunshot explosion ricocheted around in his head, echoing his terror. Then he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, anger and despair. Thoughts shot around in his mind, torturing him.

_No no no no Joe it can't be it can't be no Joe come back where are you_

Disbelief and denial, sniggered the voice in his head. He's gone, idiot. Gone forever. You saw.

Then wrath seized him. Frank could no longer control his emotions and rage poured out, flooding into every crevice of his body.

_That son of a bitch where is he -_

He struggled to take control of himself again, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. His shaking feet slipped below his weight and he collapsed on the floor. Glancing up he saw his brother crumpled face down on the ground, blood all over his white shirt. Parts of his hair that Frank could see were stained dark crimson. He lay in a puddle of red. Red guilt. Red regret. Hot red anger -

Frank sobbed uncontrollably on the ground, thinking of how he could have been there just a split second earlier. Such immense guilt weighed down upon him that he felt like he was being suffocated. Regret came upon him like a tidal wave, swallowing up everything in its path, but sympathy was nowhere to be seen.

_Joe is too young to die - how can he? He can't just have his life snatched away from him like that - I should have been there to stop him - it should have been me -_

Frank's rash, impulsive little brother was gone. And although Joe was the one with a single bullet in his head, it seemed like a thousand bullets were riddled in Frank's heart.

Frank jumped up with a start. Cold perspiration had dampened the bedsheets that were tangled around his body. His heart thumped wildly in his ribcage. He wiped his hand on his forehead, surprised to find it as cold as ice. As a reflex, he looked down on the floor, half expecting to find a bloody figure lying on the floor motionless and lifeless. The bare wooden floor stared back at him. Suddenly thinking of his nightmare, he immediately leapt out of bed and walked hurriedly to his brother's room. It was just a nightmare, but it was so oddly real that Frank decided that he needed just a quick check to be sure and calm his nerves.

Opening the door slowly and silently, he found a lump under the giant quilt on his bed that Joe had been using ever since he was five. A quiet snoring came from under the quilt. Frank chuckled softly, now that he felt more at peace. At this the lump shifted position slightly.

"G'night, bro," Frank smiled.

He left after that, sure to close the door quietly.

* * *

March 18 7:45 pm

Frank ran a hand through his sweaty hair as he thought about his brother. Maybe he was more protective of him that he would admit. He wondered fleetingly whether Joe thought the same about him as well. Pushing all thoughts away, he attempted to concentrate on the task before him. He mentally recited the facts in his head.

Malcolm Lemuel. Also known as The Cabezona. Lookalike last seen at 26 Shore Road talking discreetly to another shady-looking suspect. Believed to be the leader or drug lord of a major drug cartel. Criminal organization known to participants as 'Blackout'. Spends his time planning out attacks on rival syndicates, the military, the FBI and the police force.

Fenton Hardy, their father, was asked to assist on the case as he would seem less high-profile and more conservative. Instead, due to another ongoing case that he was working on in Europe, he assigned his two sons to take charge and investigate.

Their father used to be part of the New York Police Department, but retired to become a private investigator. Over the years, he had gained much respect. The Hardy name was quite a household name. Policemen nationwide recognized the name with reverence. It was just so that their father's sleuthing abilities had been passed down to his sons, for they had turned out to gain quite a reputation for themselves.

Fame had its downsides too, though. Smaller, local criminal organizations would probably have the Hardy detectives' names in their 'List of People to Avoid' files and such. Therefore it was necessary to utilize aliases and fake passports at all times, though it was dangerous as these were not officially cleared with the authorities. Anyway, both Frank and Joe had a secret pact to do their best in whatever their father asked of them. It was in their blood. They didn't want to let him down now.

A snapping branch shook Frank out of his reverie. Turning around, he thought he saw a figure slipping and weaving through the woods, donning black gloves and coat, clutching a gun. For a moment his heart seemed to forget to beat and he stared at the woods breathlessly. Nothing.

He shook is head, trying to clear it. Nightmares were really messing with his head, he thought. Just when he needed it most. Frank got up slightly unsteadily and looked around in the now uncomfortable silence. Light was fading fast. The small slivers of sunlight that made it through the thick layer of leaves above were getting thinner and thinner. A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly 8 pm. He decided to find Joe. They'd stakeout the same place again tomorrow.

As he stood up, deep in thought, an unearthly yell shook the air around him. It almost plunged him back into his nightmare. Terror flowed through his veins, and he found himself frozen to the spot. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. An unwelcome sense of déjà vu paired with dread poured into his mind. But why?

_No Joe not again it can't be..._

An ominous premonition revealed itself to Frank. He found the yell all too familiar. All too Joe.

Frank was paralyzed with fear.

One might say that it would be fine for it to happen in a nightmare, because you could always wake up.

But this was not just a nightmare.

Because how do you wake up from reality?


	2. Nancy

A/n finally nancy is here;) I know this is short, but I suck at plots. Thanks for reading again!

March 18 8 pm Drew residence

Nancy Drew stepped out of the bathroom, pulling her wet strawberry blond hair into a scrunchie. As she walked across the corridor to her bedroom, her eye caught a certain picture placed in an ornate photo frame hung up inconspicuously on the wall. Dust covered and yellowed from age, it would have blended in perfectly with the rest of the decoration in the Drew residence. Her house was like an ancient gem that could very well have come out from a time portal, and was furnished with old fashioned furniture that still retained their beauty. She glanced up at the photo, her heart beating just a little faster. Seeing Elizabeth Drew always made her feel a little strange, and sometimes even awkward, as well as sadness, for her father had always said that she had been a wonderful person. She studied the photo for a moment, temporarily forgetting about her plans for the next few hours. Same brilliant, crystal clear blue eyes. Same strawberry blond hair (though a little more blond). Same feminine, soft-angled body.

But what struck her the most was her smile. It could bring joy into the most sorrowful soul and hope into the darkest future. Nancy wondered whether her own smile which others often complimented as looking and reminding them of her late mother was truly inherited from her. For a second, she fell into silence, pondering these thoughts.

She didn't really know what to feel, though. Many a time saw Carson Drew telling his daughter wistfully about his wife, her hobbies, her personality, and most often, her resemblance to Nancy. "She had the same laughter as you, dear. And oh, her eyes! They were the bluest orbs ever created, so deep and mysterious that they looked like they could lock up an ocean." Nancy had giggled at his description, and Carson had pulled her in closer to him. "And you know what, my dear? I remember, just a month after we got married, she went to one of those fortune tellers, just for fun. She was told that she would have a daughter that reflected the beauty and elegance she possessed. But what she said after that mattered most. The baby girl would grow up to be a wonderful detective, a brilliant sleuth. She would be a girl of mystery and power, but at the same time, graceful and poised. She would be a girl who believed in equality, justice and righteousness, but most of all, in herself. A woman of iron will and determination. She would then go on to meet two other gentlemen, who also possessed the same qualities that she did. They would work together and made a fine team. Being a practical type of guy then, I took the predictions with a grain of salt. There is one thing I am pretty sure of, though. That little girl grew up to be exactly what she was said to be. But one thing - I can't say what would be in store for the girl and one of her teammates." He then winked at her.

Nancy blushed inwardly. It wasn't official, definitely. She knew (but wouldn't care to admit) that she had special feelings for the elder Hardy. It was obvious, anyway. Joe often teased her about that, leaving her in shades of pink, but Nancy was still glad that somebody already knew. Keeping her emotions in check was a difficult task. Her heart often wandered into unknown Hardy territory, so it was nice to have someone in the know to support you. Charming, always-more-sociable-with-the-girls Joe provided hilarious but useless 'Frank advice' for Nancy. "You'll have to reign him in yourself, Nance. He's so ridiculously oblivious -okay, maybe he does know, but I'm willing to bet he'd take a century to figure out that somebody has a crush on him and how should he respond to it, and that person has been dropping hints all the while but just can't bring himself to see the light."

_If only you were here, Joe. There's a lot more to this that I bet you don't know about yet..._

Frank's forces of attraction were getting stronger all the time. Nancy had known him since they were little kids, and from then he had turned out to be a kind, gentle and sweet young adult. She could feel the effects of it. "Maybe both of Frank's magnetic poles happen to be unlike. So basically there's no way you'll ever be able to repel him. If you get sick of him, I mean." Joe once quipped.

Nancy grinned. She absolutely couldn't wait to see the Hardy brothers again - obnoxious Joe and his bad jokes, and Frank and his, well...

Her cheeks colored again.

_I guess I like him more than I ever thought._

A blue post-it on her wardrobe reminded her of her meeting with Bess the next day at noon for lunch at Shakey's Pizza and to 'catch up on whatever was going on with the Hardys', she had added with a smirk. "Forget the diet," Bess had grinned. "I think my stomach needs to be treated once in a while."

_Nothing _is going on with the Hardys, she would tell her. _For once everything is mystery and crime-free. Not to mention romance-free. With Frank Hardy. _Especially_ Frank Hardy._

And then after lunch Nancy had to meet Ned. Or more like she was forced to. They had since more or less broken up, and Ned was desperate to patch things up. He still thought that their relationship was salvageable, unlike Nancy. She was more practical and decided that their recent fights were not going to get them anywhere, and thus wanted to break it off. Ned clung on like a pest. She pronounced his name in his mind with much distaste.

_Well, whatever it takes to get him off my back._

A call from downstairs interrupted her train of thought.

"Nancy!"

"Yes, Hannah?"

Hannah Gruen passed the house phone over to her, a grim expression on her face. Frown lines enveloped her forehead. Her knuckles were white; she was gripping the phone tightly, a sign of bad news. A feeling of dread washed over Nancy.

"I'm afraid something has happened to the Hardy household."

Nancy felt like somebody had turned off the heating in her body. Cold ran along her skin, and ominous premonitions crept up to her thoughts, signaling danger at the end of the line.

_Uh oh_.

Millions of thoughts and possibilities sped through Nancy's mind at the speed of light; she couldn't process them all. Did Fenton run into trouble? Were his confidential documents stolen? Did something happen to Frank?

The last thought seemed to terrify her the most. What would she do if Frank was hurt? She fearfully took the phone from Hannah with shaking hands.

"Hello?" Fear was evident in her voice.

"Nancy?" It was Frank. Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. _So Frank is fine -_

"Nancy." Her relief stopped short. Frank's voice wavered, and he sounded shaken. Frank was usually - in fact, _always_ - calm and conserved. He was always the one who kept his cool during heated arguments while Joe would shout and threaten in unnecessarily loud volumes, sometimes even resorting to violence. She had never seen Frank punch anyone that wasn't attacking him. In tight situations he was the never-panic guy who could quickly and efficiently get everyone to safety. It frightened her, hearing him speak this way. If Frank Hardy was worried, then there was something going on that was very bad indeed.

"Frank." Nancy's voice was hoarse. She tightened her grip on the phone. "What is going on?"

"You didn't hear? Dad didn't tell you?"

Frank was beating around the bush. Another bad sign.

"No, he didn't. What?"

A groan escaped from the other end. "Ugh, it's just..."

"Frank. Seriously. Just tell me." Nancy tried to sound firm, but his fear seemed to be contagious. Her voice shook. She awaited his reply, feeling more and more worry every second.

"Nancy, Joe is gone."


End file.
